


we'll let the sunlight in (and steal time, to be heroes for one moment more)

by lechatnoir



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Gen, Made Families, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on a prompt from an wonderful anon on tumblr who requested the ladies in Days of Future Past to interact with each other. </p>
<p>In which, they paint a portrait in flowers and the quiet whispers of the oak trees listen as they survive in a war that's far too large for them to grasp but they trust in each other and maybe, just maybe, they'll survive. </p>
<p>Slight spoilers for Days of Future Past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll let the sunlight in (and steal time, to be heroes for one moment more)

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr under 'chrysanthemumskies' ! uvu 
> 
> I sort of played around with the information that i had from the 25 moments site, as well as tossing in my little headcanon that Blink owns a flowershop & Bishop, Warpath and Sunspot help her run it. 
> 
> the lyrics that I used in this little fic was from the song Heroes by David Bowie .

i.

It’s been two weeks since the last time they’ve heard of any legislation being passed in regards to the mutant camps, five days since the latest model of the inhibitor collars had been assigned and issued to them, no names, just numbers and it felt like history was suddenly moving backwards. 

It’s been three weeks since the last attack.

It’s been a month since she’s led a band of mutants out of the camp, and had seen the quiet glimmers of hope spark in their eyes as she led them to an unknown fate, portals gleaming with a violent bright light and she watched them pass through, something like the words _thank you_ on their lips, but all she could do was offer a ghost of a smile, tight lipped and there was nothing but the taste of ash in her mouth as she watched them leave, one by one. 

(Hope was something that she did not expect to see in their eyes, because hope was something that didn’t quite exist in their world, not with the silent predators lurking about, scaling walls, tracking their movements down as if they were game to be hunted down and eaten.

Hope was something she had told herself not to let go of, not while she was still breathing.) 

The idea had come to her quietly, in the early hours of the morning when the sun was supposedly rising in the east – not that Blink could tell - _Too much fog for us to notice what time of day or what hour it is, isn’t that wonderful_ \- and she had thought that she had seen something like the flicker of the stars in the cracks of the barracks that they were all in, just a silver of the sky to slip in, foggy and dark and damp, and nothing to offer in return to their quiet and silent prayers. 

(She had noticed something – that there was a light that flickered and was soon extinguished by the fog, but she had felt a smile form itself on her face, hand running along the edge of the collar, like the whisper of a ghost when she noticed the faint bump in the texture of the collar. 

There’s a smile on her face, and a plan slowly starts to form in her head. ) 

It had been a gradual process – it’s been a while, after all. 

It’s as if you learn how to dance again after years of being cooped up in a ten foot wide box with no windows or sunlight. 

She thinks of ten thousand sights and sounds, ten thousand brothers and sisters, ten thousand hopes and dreams, ten thousand talents and endless possibilities, and she thinks of escaping this box which keeps them all locked up and away, quietly suffocating and smothering them in the quiet hours of the night, when their nightmares rise up to take over.

Her portals had been weak at first, and it had been tiring – exhausting even – to keep up her usual appearance, harder to hide the uneven breaths that escaped her when she had been concentrating so hard to get away from here, to get away and run away and at times, she thought she had been chasing a dream that should never have existed in the first place anyway. 

She had learned how to school her face to be that of a mask – she has Ororo to thank for that – and she learns how to even out her breathing, to stay calm and alert – thanks to the young girl called Kitty Pryde. 

It happens with a bit of a spark and a bit of improvising, but soon enough she’s had James scout out the area and tell her what happened – which areas were least guarded, which areas had a way out (possibly) – and they communicate through taps, something like Morse Code but not quite. 

She thinks of stars that flare up and burn in the sky for years to come, and that’s when her portals form and she tells them to _run_ and she leaves them with a cheeky grin and tousles James’ and Roberto’s hair before telling them to _go_ and it’s Bishop who grabs her arm and tells her to be careful.  
(She takes the promise and buries it in her teeth as she watches them go with nothing more but a wink and a battering of her eyelashes as she waits for the orderlies to come, waits for them to figure out that their little precious collars don’t work, not when there are chips and bits and pieces that slowly start to fall apart once the first crack is made.) 

They think that they’ve got her cornered, and it takes a bit of self-restraint not to roll her eyes at them then and there - _don’t underestimate them_ \- but she lets them get close, lets them think they have her and she thinks of days long past when she had found a family of her own and they had wandered the streets together until she had found a flowershop to call her home.

(And somehow that family had been made up of her dragging along Bishop and James and Roberto into her flower shop, and yet, they didn’t seem to mind her little antics of rearranging the flowers by color coordination, or her talking animatedly with her arms, eyes alight with vibrant energy and occasionally, when the weather wasn’t too bad , she’d fiddle around with the cranky old television set that she had dragged from some yard sale or another , and they’d sit around and fiddle with the antennae in order to get some sort of signal in order to catch the latest news and see what the outside world was doing to itself.)

There’s something like a bit of a wave as she laughs in their faces and says “Well, would you look at the time, I do believe I’m late for dinner. Sorry fellas, you’re gonna have to take a cab to catch up!” – and she’s gone, in a burst of color, sealing up the portal with seconds to spare before they can lunge through and get to her, get to _them_. 

She thinks they’re safe for now, if only for a quiet minute or so – at most, they have a few days – and she feels lighter now as she looks down and grins – there’s no collar.

They can’t track her, not anymore. 

ii.

When Blink had sent them through her portal, she hadn’t specified the little trick she thought of – they’re technically moving fast enough to cause damage to these shitty collars of theirs, what if their speed had accelerated to a point where it would be enough to chip away at the material and gradually loosen up the collars – move around a bit more, and the collars would snap off. 

It would have been all safe and sound, if she had gone with them at the time, but instead she had sent them off with a grin and a wink, and they had waited with baited breaths, night sky deafening above them. 

It had been one breath of baited nerves, two of irritation, three of worry, four of mild panic, and five breaths of dread before Warpath had heard the sound of her familiar portal whisper through the night, and he had tugged on Sunspot’s shirt before making his way through the crowd of mutants and they were both grinning and hugging Blink tightly when she had appeared, something like the remains of a laugh on her lips as she tentatively hugged them back – “Oh come on, I wasn’t gone for _that_ long. We’ve got to keep moving though, I can’t say they figured out where we are exactly, but I’m sure they weren’t happy about my little surprise for them.” 

(And it’s all they can do not to hold her tightly and wish that this was all a quiet nightmare that they’d all wake up from in their shared apartment above the flower shop, tangled sheets and Bishop would be making coffee in the morning , ever the early riser and Blink would be the one who kicks them all out of her bed, even though she insists that they live with her and it works, and maybe this was all some sort of nightmare that they need to wake up from, need to wake up and breathe in the ocean air that would drift in their checkered curtain windows in the dim morning light. 

Instead, they smell fear and anger and anxiety, and the dampening fog of the night.) 

iii.

It takes a while – 6 years exactly - to form the Free Mutants organization, and it’s a nerve wracking ordeal. 

(They’re all together, and what a small glory that is, she thinks.) 

When they’re joined by the X-Men and the kids - _You weren’t that young yourself, not too long ago_ \- Blink takes to Kitty and Ororo instantly, a quiet camaraderie forming between the three of them. 

(She would meet Anne Marie later, and they would talk into the night amongst the quiet fires of the barracks when the winter months would come in and start to chill their bones, and it would be one wandering soul to another, after all, they both know how it’s like, to be on the run with nowhere to turn, nowhere to turn to. 

She would teach her to read the flowers and plants – you never quite know, what still manages to grow in the quiet isolation of concrete and metal and dashed hopes and dreams. 

But she teaches her all the same, and watches the young woman ease out of her shell quietly, with a fierce protective streak to her, and Blink could only smile and nod, and hopes that perhaps, she’ll see her again soon, in a future where things aren’t too bleak, and perhaps, Anne Marie would stop by her flower shop and say hello, and that would be pleasant.

Blink holds onto these small thoughts, small encounters – doesn’t get overtly attached, after all, they’ve been playing at the cat and mouse game with these Sentinals for years now – and she knows when to compartmentalize, when to quietly lock up and isolate herself while keeping control over her portals and watching out for everyone in her own way. 

It’s something that makes her click with Ororo Munroe almost instantly, with a bit of mutual respect and a knack for looking out for everyone. 

iv. 

Ororo Munroe is something like a tempest and a storm rolled up into one – though, Blink’s sure that they don’t just call her ‘Storm’ not for nothing. 

They happen to have the same watch – she’s on the southern part of the monastery and Ororo’s on the northern side, but with a bit of manipulating her portals she could be on both sides at once (or, well, sort of. But it works out, because for once, the air is calm and quiet and there doesn’t seem to be any immediate threat, and by having first watch she’s a bit _bored_ but that doesn’t stop her from striking up a conversation with Ororo, who simply raises an eyebrow when Blink steps through one portal and crouches down next to her, shoulders touching and tension slowly relaxing between them. 

“You know, I always thought if anyone got tired of running all the time. You know how people are always looking for something, never finding it immediately, going on these long and boring quests for some sort of prophesized item that may not exist. It just seems to be useless and a waste of time, anyway.” Blink mutters, and honestly it’s a depressing conversation starter, but it gets a chuckle out of Storm, who bumps her shoulder against Blink’s and says “There’s always something to look for, even when it seems like the world’s ending.”

“Well, aren’t you awfully optimistic about all this.”   
“Optimistic? No, not really. I’m afraid I’ve been looking for far too long to have anything left of what you would call optimism. But at least it’s not as boring being out here, in the fresh air.”   
Ororo gives her a smile, and it’s something like a bitter grimace and a laugh that never reaches her eyes, but they nod at each other and Blink jumps back to her side of the monastery, a quiet smile on her face.

“Course, nothing like the smell of burnt metal and the impending doom of Sentinals to liven up your day.” 

“Oh yeah, definitely, and I’ll provide breakfast in bed, just make sure I get the list beforehand of what everyone likes and there we go, zip and zap and all served. You know, when this is all over maybe I should try waitressing.” Blink mutters, rolling her eyes before grinning at Ororo through the portal. 

She only gets a snicker in return, but at least it’s better than stone cold silence and hearing her voice echo along the stones of the monastery, edging towards the deafening silence as time stretches on. 

Maybe, just maybe, the first watch will slip into a lull and time will move forward much more quicker with the two of them alternating on each side of the monastery, and maybe, just maybe, with a silver of hope, they’ll make it out alive.

(There’s a little voice in their heads that laughs and tells them that they won’t live, that they’ll just dance to the tune that the Sentinels play and it’ll be during the third act of this little play orchestrated by years of hatred and fear that they’ll fall to their graceful deaths. 

There’s enough fire in them all to burn the playbooks, and to laugh at the face of death.

They’ve learned how to adapt and survive.

They plan on surviving this war.) 

v. 

Kitty Pryde is a girl who despite her name, reminds Blink of old strong oak trees that could withstand the roaring ocean currents in a flood, and the howling wind of a hurricane, silent and quiet and resilient. 

(She thinks of her as something like a younger sibling in a way, with her pouts and huffs, and quiet panic that doesn’t make her lose her concentration when she learns to slowly develop her secondary mutation, and everything seems to hang on a silver lining, where the mere seconds make everything count and when they escape the Sentinels the first time, Blink can’t help the smile that makes its way to her face.

The kid’s going places.)   
She had first ran into Kitty when she had been scouting out the camps with James - _they call him Warpath_ \- and she had seen the uncertainty in the young woman’s eyes, but with a bit of a gleam and a small shimmer from her crystal, she’s gotten the girl’s curiosity who could only stare and whisper   
“What the heck are you doing anyway?” 

Blink only winked in response before turning and opening a small portal and jumping through it, something like “You’ll see!” being tossed the girl’s way, who could only stare as the portal closed up and hesitantly reached her hand out to touch the empty space where Blink had been. 

“Whoa.” 

(Later that day there had been more security drills and protocols being activated, and when Kitty had lined up in front of her bunk bed after yet another ridiculous security check - _someone had been spotted trying to sneak out of the camps_ \- she had noticed the small dark green ribbon lying discreetly on her pillow, and there was a hastily scribbled note next to it, reading – 

_‘ Keep your eyes open, Kitty-cat. X marks the spot. ‘_

And there’s something like a gleam of hope in Kitty’s eyes as she rolls her eyes and mutters something about corny writing, but she ties the thin ribbon along her wrist (it’s enough for her sleeves to hide it) and smiles quietly to herself as she lies down and closes her eyes, lets the wind wail outside but she knows that maybe, just maybe, they have a shot of surviving this war. 

vi.

When their little trick works and they find the years slowly roll on by, it’s Blink who opens up a shop not too far from Westchester, and it’s James and Roberto and Lucas (although, they all just happen to call him Bishop out of habit) who help her run the flower shop. 

(And for a while, things are alright and they fall into a pattern together, all four of them)

It is a warm spring day when she hears the doorbell jingle as their door opens and closes and she’s about to say hello or some sort of witty slogan that she had managed to get out of doing the crossword puzzle this morning over her fifth cup of coffee, hair up in a messy braid-bun combination being held by two pencils but before she can do that she’s greeted by the sight of a dark haired girl with a tell-tale streak of white in her hair, and she nods in greeting – “Anne Marie, nice to see you again.” 

She’s given a smile and nod in return, hesitant and tentative, but a smile’s a smile, and Blink takes it. 

“Ah, you can call me Rogue, you know? No need to be so formal and all.” 

“You can call me Clarice if you want, but I’m pretty sure Roberto always says it makes me sound like some old wizened grandma or something like that.” With that said, she rolls her eyes and smiles at Rogue before quirking an eyebrow and stares – “So, what brings you to my little shop ? Were you simply in town or -- ?” 

“I’d like to buy a few flowers actually, for a old friend of mine.” 

“Anything in particular?”

“Just something that would mean uh … “   
“Hope? New beginnings? “ 

A nod, and a shy smile. 

Blink nods and makes her way to the flowers that she’d been keeping an eye on for a while and she doesn’t know why, but it makes sense in a way – it’s as if they’re quietly thanking each other for being alive, or surviving – and sometimes she thinks she can vaguely remember the passing feeling of dread or the thought that in some universe, or lifetime, they were in a war together. 

(And they had needed to turn the dirt over, to start again and uproot their roots.) 

“Daffodils and daisies, then.” 

They share a quiet smile, and there’s a song that hums along the radio that plays in the shop, something like the lyrics   
\- _We could steal time,  
just for one day  
We can be Heroes, for ever and ever  
What d'you say? _  
\- drifting through her shop. 

 

\- And she thinks of the sun that gleams through the windows and the ocean waves that rise from deep below and she can taste hope on her lips as she bustles around, keeping tabs on the clock and the flowers and the shipments that should be coming in soon. 

vii.

Ororo Munroe visits when the sky is overcast and the clouds drift on by, idle and lazy but she clears that little problem up with a wave of her hand and a smile on her face. 

“One order of lilacs and morning glories, please.” 

“Getting sentimental are we, Storm?” Blink chuckles, a smile on her face as she starts to arrange the little bouquet, hands dancing along the stems and tying the flowers together with a bright yellow ribbon, handing it to the woman who only shake her head in response, a quiet grin dancing on her face. 

“Are you _sure_ you should have opened up a flower shop, Clarice? With your speed you could have had a decent bed and breakfast place running.” Ororo chuckles, leaning against the counter where the register was and staring at the other woman. 

“You promised me a snow day, Ororo! I’m afraid my dreams of a bed and breakfast were dashed a long time ago, but I’m sure I could think of _something_ if I get a snow day or two.” Blink smiles, before handing the bouquet over. 

“Snow in May, Clarice?” 

“Well, you know what they say, in like a lion, out like a lamb. Or something like that.” 

“I’ll see you soon, Blink.” 

“Sure thing, Stormy.” 

ix.   
It is Kitty Pryde who visits her last, all nervous energy and laughter rolled up in one.   
“What can I do for you, Kitty –cat?” Blink looks up from her crossword (she can never get them right anyway, so as to why she bothers trying to decrypt them, she doesn’t know) as she hears the familiar footsteps and there’s a smile on her face and she doesn’t know why but her smile seems to take up the entire room and ease up the tension. 

“I just wanted to stop by and say hello, you know? Storm’s been saying how she keeps on forgetting to pick up some plants or something for her greenhouse and Rogue seems to have taken to making flower crowns and press flowers into one of the Professor’s old books. I figured I might as well check out this shop of yours sooner rather than later.” Kitty says, a tentative grin on her face. 

“Well, I might remember what Storm was missing in her large garden of hers, and pressing flowers is something I should do sometimes –but well, that’s unimportant right now.” Blink says, hands weaving their own little tune as she dances from one side of the shop to another, picking out flowers without having to ask Kitty what she needs. 

(Roberto always tells her she’s gotten good at reading people if she’s grown close to them or sometimes he says that there’s a protective streak to her that makes him roll his eyes but he can’t seem to think of her without taking note of the habit of hers to have a need to protect others.) 

It’s a quiet day when Kitty Pryde visits, and Blink’s hands move towards the Zinnias, Black Eyed Suzannes, and violets, and somehow, that little bouquet speaks more than they ever will. 

Kitty Pryde leaves with a smile and there’s a ghost of a war that would have occurred on her face had she remembered what had happened in an alternate timeline – but instead, there is the spring breeze and the faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air. 

(Oddly enough, one by one, they find a home in their patchwork quilts and make it their own families find a home.) 

(In the future, they survive the war.)

(In the future, it takes a quiet sort of strength to survive) 

(In the future, there comes a point where running is not an option.) 

(Your only option – is to survive.) 

 

There’s something like the ghost of a war that never should have existed in the corner of their thoughts, but all they could think of was of old forget-me-nots and chrysanthemums, and perhaps that was enough for them to move on forwards, as time slowly ticked on by the growing years.


End file.
